Of Seekers and Shepherds: Children of the Younger God, Book One

by G. H. Duval

  Though Siare had granted Kerg asylum, she had cautioned against officially recognizing his status, instead allowing him to continue under the auspices of his existing role. Ostensibly, no one in Kirin knew of Kerg’s true motives or Mori’s abilities. And it was common, Mori knew, for Ambassadors to return home for state visits and leave their families behind in their host nations. There would be nothing amiss in their conduct as far as the Emperor was concerned. Mori accepted the explanations, placating as they were; but he was not convinced his father would be truly safe back on Kirin soil.

  What annoyed him most was that the travelling party had to leave now…in the desolate hours before dawn. The whole clandestine-seeming business only heightened his worry for his father. Again, he wondered why the Shepherds did not simply use their abilities to fly to Kirin. Certainly the Formynder and his Honor Guard, alone, could manage to bring the party to their destination. With his own growing knowledge of his abilities, he understood this would be a taxing affair, for Sheng-Derzei was a long distance from Coer. But he also felt confident that the Formynder, if no one else, could manage it.

  When he had vocalized his confusion, he had been admonished by his father, who reminded him that the Coerdans were not keen to remind their folk, much less their neighbors, of their abilities. Fear, he explained, could lead simple folk to extreme acts. Could the Firsts and their Shepherds put down an uprising? Yes, of course. But the cost of doing so would be grotesque to say the least; the Firsts moving from stewards to tyrants.

  While this made logical sense to Mori, he still questioned that a middle ground could not be found. Perhaps they could set out as a normal traveling party yet use their abilities once out sight? He felt convinced that their prohibitions were unnecessary. Having left the Steading’s grounds only once, however, and even then on such a special occasion, he recognized his understanding of the complexities of Coerdan culture may be deeply flawed.

  As they entered the courtyard proper, Mori was forcibly drawn back to the present by the activity within. There were scores of Shepherds and servants moving about purposefully. Two carriages were being prepared, luggage and packs being mounted aboard. At least a dozen horses were standing in two lines, calmly being suited for travel, and some, it appeared, for battle.

  A tall muscular man in sparse white leathers was moving along the lines of the horses. He did not appear to feel the cold. His eyes glowed a soft olive green and his lips were moving, though Mori could not hear him from where he stood. Every so often, he would touch one of the horses, and Mori would watch them settle or let out a deep chuff. As he reached the end of the second line, the man stopped to saddle a horse—the largest horse Mori had ever seen. The creature was not simply tall, but broad and wide, with large hooves covered by tufts of white mane.

  A proper warhorse, Mori thought. For a proper warrior.

  The man was none other than Beast Warden Hest au Terre su Equis: The Horse Master. Mori found the man and his Aspect-calling to be utterly fascinating. So far, he had only caught the briefest glimpses of the Warden, for he was always in a hurry, always working at something. And his expression was often one that brooked no interruption, as it was now.

  Mori deliberately fell behind, standing at the edge of the courtyard to take it all in. These preparations were notably different than those he and his family had undergone when they’d left Sheng-Derzei. There was a distinctly martial feel to the proceedings at odds with the diplomatic undertaking his father had described. As he watched, he struggled to name what he was feeling…perhaps a mixture of alarm and… excitement?

  The Shepherds with whom he had been living seemed different now. In the grey darkness of the pre-dawn hours, torches shifted about, though those “torches” were just as often flames hovering above an au Feur’s outstretched palm as a more conventional version, and the flickering light made all who moved within it seem ghostly and unnatural. He knew this was a nonsensical reaction, childish even, not surprising in his current sulky mood.

  He stood taller, forcing himself to be the pragmatic thinker his father had raised. Perhaps it was the combat dress he spied among his comrades rather than the at-ease uniforms with which he was accustomed. Certainly, he had seen Shepherds attired thus before—usually during drills or coming and going from the Steading on various details. But they’d seemed a formality then—a costume rather than a necessity. The Shepherds of this party wore chainmail tunics and stiff leather pants with layered greaves. Over this was worn the formal black-lined-with-silver tabard of the Firsts—their symbol of interlocking rings prominent in the center.

  Their weapons were as varied as the Shepherds and the affinities they served—short, deadly staves to blunt axes to long, graceful swords. Arrayed thus, Mori was allowed no delusions about what these men and women were and what they were prepared to do. As new as he was to the use of his talents, he had not yet breached the mental gap between the exercises he engaged in and actually using one’s Aspect to do battle…to harm others or impose one’s will.

  He shivered, pulling his cloak more tightly about him, and his Aspect murmured to him. He could feel it like a tapping inside his skull, promising to make him comfortable. He was tempted to yield to it, but Mori would not disobey Instructor Shavare’s prohibition. Idly, he wondered who would take up his instruction while the Formynder was away. Sighing and unsatisfied by all that was occurring, he stifled his desires and refused his Aspect’s urgings. As he moved to rejoin his father, he spotted a familiar form moving into the courtyard from one of the Steading’s many side entrances, and his breath caught.

  “Mina!” he called, hoping she would hear him over the buzz of murmured conversations, horses being saddled, buckles being fastened, and weapons being secured. With the use of my Aspect to carry my voice, I’d not have such worries, he thought. He was sulking again, and, it turned out, for no good reason. Mina turned immediately and found his eyes. Smiling, she waved enthusiastically.

  She had been walking with the Headmistress—who herself was walking at the First Seer’s side. But once she spotted Mori, she spoke briefly to the Headmistress and broke away. They moved to one another and embraced quickly.

  “It’s freezing!” Mina complained, and Mori agreed wholeheartedly. She smiled as she looked up at him, relishing her inclusion in the morning’s excitement. The strange, wavering light caught in Mina’s hair, the auburn streaks within flaring. She seemed to burn like a candle, her green eyes alight. Mori could not resist her exuberance. He never could.

  “You’d think with all those auF’s and auC’s over there a little more warmth would be swirling about, eh?”

  Mori grinned at her use of the slang for Fire and Air Shepherds. He was still not comfortable using such jargon, which bordered on the disrespectful to his mind. As the First Seer in Waiting, Mina displayed a consistent lack of reverence for the rarified class to which she belonged, but no one else seemed to be as shocked by it as he.

  Will I ever understand these Coerdans? he wondered. They were a deeply devout people; the invocation of their God’s name and blessing a constant in their daily rituals and customs. Yet they were also familiar with their deity in a way he could not reconcile. The Coerdans were a strange people indeed.

  Rather than join her lighthearted mockery, he simply held out his hand to Mina, who took it gratefully. He pulled her nearer to him—he wished only to lend her his warmth, of course—and she accepted that as well. Together, they joined the knot that made up the heart of the party travelling to Kirin: The Firsts, the Formynder’s Honor Guard, Mori’s father, and Culari. That last addition Mori found confounding. Mori knew Culari to be a manservant to the First, but he seemed to be of an advanced age, so Mori had not envisioned he would accompany his Lady on formal State visits. Adding to Mori’s surprise, no other maids or servants were gathering. His Kirin customs bristled at the idea of royalty traveling so sparsely. What they lacked in retainers, however, they made up for in unrestrained force. As the party assembled, Mori count
ed ten Shepherds in total within the party. And, judging by the steady stream coming and going from the courtyard, more could yet be added.

  “-and listen to your Formynder,” the Headmistress was insisting, speaking in serious tones with the First Seer. “You’ll not be in Hirute’s domain and your foresight will be sparse at best. Your most reliable information will come through the Aspects at his disposal.”

  “Yes, Mother,” the First murmured, her voice smooth and soothing as she took the Headmistress’ hands in hers. “I’ll have Shavare, his Guard, two Beast Wardens, an apprentice su Canis, and Culari at my back. Do not fret!” Again, Mori wondered that she counted her manservant in the same breath as the Formynder and Beast Wardens. Siare squeezed the Headmistress’ hands before embracing her, which was fierce but brief. When they broke, the First seemed taller to Mori, more imposing. She turned to the Formynder, wordlessly holding out a hand to him. He took it and led her to the carriage at the front of the retinue.

  “Come now, Mori,” his father said. “It is time.” He was standing near the door to the second carriage, which was positioned directly behind that of the Firsts. The horses, now bearing riders, positioned themselves in a loose diamond formation around both carriages—one of the Formynder’s personal guards at each of the four points of the diamond. Sitting calmly in their saddles, they exuded an aura of control and invulnerability. He should feel comforted by their presence, but he only shivered again, and a trembling from deep inside threatened to overtake him. He hoped he could keep it at bay long enough for his father to depart. He would not shame his father before those assembled.

  Mina moved even closer to him, her shoulder pressed against his ribs. An inexplicable warmth moved through him…it was not physical, but it soothed him. His trembling ceased. He suspected what Mina had done; that she had entered his mind or his spirit. He could not understand what she did, precisely, but he accepted it as he accepted his own gifts, grateful for her intervention.

  He bowed to his father, who smiled and returned the gesture before wordlessly pulling Mori into his arms. He found himself enveloped in the warm smell of spice synonymous with his father. Tears threatened. Mori broke away, refusing to look his father in the eye.

  “Be sure to watch after Lady Mina, my son,” his father said. Grateful, Mori met his eyes and nodded.

  “On my word, Father.”

  His father held his eyes for one long beat before nodding again. With a final bow to Mina, he turned and walked to his carriage. Mori watched him disappear inside.

  “Oh my,” Mina breathed. Rather than explain herself when Mori turned to her with a puzzled expression, she simply pointed across his body at the figure entering the courtyard.

  Beast Warden Savantha moved into the space with long, confident strides. Easily keeping pace with her was her enormous, ever-present canine companion. Like her counterpart, Hest, she wore only the tight leathers that bared her arms. Though she sported a thick fur cloak, it was pinned to the tops of her shoulders and kept firmly at her back. The cold did not seem to touch her any more than it did her fellow Warden. He saw no weapon at her hip or back. Her fingers rested lightly atop her companion’s head, unconsciously twining fur between them, and Mori recognized belatedly the weapon she would be taking with her.

  In the last weeks, during their shared training sessions, Mori and Dodge had practiced marshalling currents to hover in place. The Formynder would take them high above the Steading for those exercises, and most commonly, to an area called the Meadows, which sat at the far reaches of their holdings.

  The Meadows were the sanctuary of the Beast Wardens, and due to the nature of their respective callings, they were unperturbed by the Formynder’s drills with Mori and Dodge. Mori understood why the Wardens would, of course, need separate lodgings to accommodate their Kindred. But Formynder Shavare had shared that they preferred to work apart from their brethren to spare budding au Terre’s the temptation of breaking the prohibition of touching minds with beasts. Mori was not of their Aspect, yet even he felt drawn to the animals at work with their Shepherd bondmates. Something about those partnerships held an undeniable appeal, and he conceded that were he to possess an Earth affinity of his own, he too would be tempted to sate his curiosity.

  From their vantage point high above the Steading, Mori had enjoyed watching the various Beast Wardens drilling with their Kindred. He rarely saw the su Ursa—they were much more secretive, and he’d been told they kept to very early or very late hours under cover of dark; their charges loath to interact with humans.

  But he’d enjoyed watching the su Avem and su Canis Wardens at work, and even more so at play. Unsurprisingly, he felt an instant kinship with the Kindred birds of the su Avem, particularly the giant Dire Eagles that his mind could scarcely accept were real. Large enough to carry even a large man upon their backs, his heart would rise to his throat as he watched them soar through their exercises, capturing sunlight in their golden feathers—as agile and fleet as their smaller cousins.

  But he had been similarly awed in observing the canids moving into their formations. Perhaps it was the sheer strangeness of the beasts, themselves. Mori had, of course, been exposed to domesticated canines, but he had a vague understanding at best of the others moving in concert to the Warden’s direction. She and her apprentices appeared to work magic with much more than dogs—weaving foxes, coyotes, and even the occasional wolf into their intricate patterns.

  And now, here she was. No longer being spied from far above, in safety and anonymity, but a scant few feet away! A war raged within him, one between intimidation at her presence and the desire to gain her attention. His fingers tingled with warmth and yet felt numb. His heart raced with anticipation and trepidation.

  What could he possibly say? Hello, Beast Warden, Savantha. I am that odd Kirin boy who should not even exist. And I have been watching you secretly for months. It is nice to meet you! He shook his head in dismay.

  Amazingly, she slowed, her fingers stilling as she glanced first at the canine then up and about. She came to a full stop, and after a moment of scanning those assembled, looked directly at Mori. Beast Warden Savantha looked again at her companion, who had turned his head up to hold her gaze. Something obviously passed between them, for the Warden nodded and immediately began moving toward Mori and Mina.

  Spirits of my Ancestors! Mori prayed. Protect me!

  Had he done something wrong? His mind raced, but his heart was still thumping, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

  “It’s alright, Mori,” Mina assured him, her voice low and for him alone. “I don’t sense any displeasure from her. Only...” she paused. “Curiosity.”

  Again, he found himself thankful that Mina availed herself of his emotions, perhaps even his thoughts. From the moment they had met, her use of her abilities seemed only natural to him. He found it odd that so many others felt threatened or offended by it. He squeezed Mina’s hand, drawing comfort from her certainty.

  As Savantha reached them, Mori fell into his most formal bow. Hands pressed together at the palms, he bent at the waist, eyes downcast. Mina let his hand slip away from hers as he did so, but he did not feel her bow or curtsy beside him.

  His view became that of the beast’s front legs—thick, muscular, and covered in long multi-colored fur. Before he could rise or speak, the animal’s head dipped low so as to put their eyes—canine to human—of a height. In the next moment, the dog’s mouth opened and a very large, very wet tongue assailed Mori’s face. It moved slowly from the bottom of his chin to the top of his temple, as if the dog were savoring the taste of him. Mori kept himself still, not even breathing.

  Not your taste, an amused voice corrected him. But the voice was only in his mind. His vision blurred and the light shifted. Shadows became richer, more nuanced. His nostrils flared, catching dozens of scents, many he could not name. Mori blinked, too surprised to react or be afraid, but his vision remained blurred. The voice came again. It’s your scent I’m aft
er. It’s much richer and more useful than your taste. You don’t taste like much, after all, Brother.

  Finally, Mori’s body and mind realigned. He stood bolt upright and stammered back a step. He suspected he would have stumbled and perhaps even fallen had Savantha not reached out. Absently, or so it seemed to Mori, she used one hand to grasp at his robe, stopping his momentum and pulling him back to his feet. She did not bother to even look at him while she did this, instead staring at the dog in puzzlement.

  “What is it?” she demanded. It was obvious she was not speaking to Mori or Mina. He was not certain she had intended, or was even aware, that she had spoken aloud.

  Look at him, the disembodied voice commanded in Mori’s mind. Mori shook, finally realizing who the voice belonged to. For only the second time since his admission into formal tutelage at the Steading, Mori prayed to Hirute of his own free will.

  Great Shepherd, guard me from madness! Search me, Lord of Lords, and know that I did not seek to disobey You! He offered the prayer as fervently as he could muster. This was a prohibition he could not have breached had he wanted to, which he had not!

  Look beyond the human hide, my mate. See him, the voice insisted.

  Mori shook his head and instinctively reached for Mina. She welcomed his hand with a strength he would not have thought possible for so small a person. He shook again, then realized he was actually shivering. He was suddenly very cold; a shocking, icy wave flowed from his toes to his temples. His mind cleared of any strange voices and his eyesight cleared with it; the scents receded.

  “I would ask that you desist,” Mina said tartly, but it was not at all a request. “This very instant,” she added, stomping one of her tiny feet. She had banished the Kindred canine from his mind, and she’d done so with no more effort or strain than breathing. Her eyes were a brilliant, shining violet, and he nearly ogled her, painfully reminded that she was the First Seer in Waiting. He became even more keenly aware of her slender hand in his, warmth to warmth, and he wished—desperate and ridiculous—that she might never withdraw it.